Hans and Greta
by Lion in the Land
Summary: Hansel and Gretel with a twist and a shot of zombie. Heavy on the twist. TEASER: "He couldn't freaking believe it—he was going to spend the rest of his life with Liesel after all. The only bright side was that the rest of his life was going to be very, very short."
1. Chapter 1

Hans and Greta

Chapter 1

Twigs snapped underfoot, and the pale light of the moon dimmed as the branches overhead grew thicker.

"I can't believe they ran out of food," Liesel complained.

"They were hardly out of food," Hans replied. "They just didn't have any more of what _you_ liked."

"Pepper knows I swore off carbs years ago, and did you taste that pâté? It was completely inedible. I'm glad she's so smitten with her new huntsman boyfriend and all, but venison-wurst? Gag me with a harpsichord."

"Be nice," Hans admonished as he reluctantly followed his fiancé deeper into the woods.

She turned and smirked, giving him a sidelong glance and lifting her long skirt to expose a teasing ankle. "Oh, I plan to be." She turned and skipped ahead, disappearing behind two fat tree trunks.

Hans paused and barely stifled a groan. Six months ago, such flirtation would've elicited a completely different reaction. But six months ago he'd barely known her. Back then she'd simply been the pretty daughter of a wealthy financier—the ticket to saving his father's business. He'd truly believed it would be easy enough to fall in love with her, but as the months ticked by he realized that no amount of wavy blond hair nor evenings spent with her plump lips applying just the right amount of pressure to his various pleasure points could make up for the rotting carcass of a soul that resided underneath all that beauty.

He wasn't going to be able to go through with it, not all the way to the wedding. But he could play along with the engagement. Before the church bells started ringing, however, the financial documents would be signed, his father's business would be saved, and he could break off the relationship quietly, tastefully, _finally_. Until then…

"Liesel, stop! We're going to lose our way if you go any further. We really should get back."

She peeked out from behind a tree several yards ahead. "Didn't you drop any bread crumbs?" Her long, lean arm emerged from behind her back, and she flourished a pair of white, lacy panties before dropping them to the forest floor. "Guess we'll just have to leave something else behind."

She dashed off again, further into the forest, and Hans clenched his fists, tempted to turn around and leave her to be the victim of her own folly. But then he thought of his father—his kind, gentle father who'd already lost so much—and took long strides into the forest.

He found her leaning against a tree, waiting for him. A silvery beam of light broke miraculously through the leafy branches to illuminate her comely form, casting an enticing glow upon the curve of her ample bosom. Even Hans, jaded against her as he was, couldn't help but sigh at the vision. He reflected that his lot wasn't the worst that could befall a man and didn't resist when she reached out and pulled him to her.

Pressing his fiancé against the rough bark, feeling her mouth open readily under his, he attempted to set ethics aside for the moment and give himself over to passion. She clearly wanted it—she always did—so who was being hurt?

The acrid aftertaste of cigarettes bit at his tongue. The sour flavor of stagnant garlic and whatever else had been on that edamame she'd sucked down earlier choked him. Reflexively, he pulled back.

"This again?" she whined.

"I'm sorry, love. Truly I am."

Pouting, she ran a polished fingernail along the side of his face. "What are we going to do with you?"

"I think the question is, what are you _not_ going to do with me."

She huffed. "I just can't understand why you're more concerned with my virtue than I am lately. You had no problem deflowering me months ago."

"Your flower had already been de'd," he retorted but switched tactics when he was met by a cold glare. "Maybe it's not about virtue; maybe it's more about wanting to cool off for a bit so that it will be special on our wedding night."

"Or maybe it's all about what _you_ want, and what _I_ want be damned!" She purposely dug her nail into the side of his face as she scratched down and pushed away from the tree, away from him. Her eyes carried a wild glint he'd become all too familiar with. "Perhaps I've made things too easy for you, hm? Perhaps what you really want is a chase!" She took off into the darkness.

"Bitchy _and_ crazy," he muttered to himself as he moved forward, less than eager to catch up.

* * *

"Liesel! Darling!" he called into the trees a full hour later. He'd lagged too far behind and had caught nary a sign of her.

"It actually sounds as if you care." Her sardonic voice had come from above.

Snapping his gaze skyward, he peered through the murky night and saw her perched on a high branch. "How in the hell did you get all the way up there?"

"I'm not sure, actually. Adrenalin, I guess." She scanned the ground.

"You have no idea how to get down, do you?"

"It's not that far. If you just stand right there." She pointed directly below the tree.

"And catch you? I appreciate your confidence in my brute strength, but no matter how narrow your waistline, you're not exactly a tiny little kitty ca—" His sentence was cut short by his own scream when the spiky tip of her high heel caught him in the forehead.

"What's wrong, sweetums?" Liesel cooed with false innocence. "I was only trying to make myself lighter. Ready for the other one?"

He scowled at the threat but recollected himself. "For your own safety, I suppose you better drop it—_gently—_to the ground. Then you can use your feet for traction on the trunk. I'll stand just underneath in case you slip."

"My hero," she drawled. Swinging her legs over the branch and around the trunk, she slowly inched her way down.

Hans stood dutifully below, holding his arms at the ready. When she was still several feet from the ground, a loud crack of snapping wood echoed through the forest and she dropped onto him. The force knocked him off balance and they toppled to the ground in an awkward heap, his back slamming into the unyielding forest floor.

Liesel erupted with hysterical laughter while he held still, attempting to assess the impact of the fall on his spine before making any unwise moves. She spun around on top of him and kissed the tip of his nose. "That's what you get for being such a wretched tease." Sitting with her rump firmly planted on his chest, she opened her mouth wide in a yawn. "Enough fun for the night. Take me home."

Determining that bruising was the extent of the damage, Hans slid his hands under his girlfriend and gently scootched her bottom to the forest floor. "About that," he said, rising to stand and peering into the black night. "I have no idea where it is you've led me to, and without the sun, I'm not going to be able determine direction."

"What are you saying?" Any hint of mirth had drained from her voice. "Tell me you're not suggesting we sleep here!"

"Do you have any other ideas?"

"How about we head back the way we came?" Picking up her shoes, she stepped off in a direction Hans was pretty sure was incorrect, but since he really had no idea, he followed her lead. Walking all night would at least be better than fighting off her advances until dawn.

Walk all night they did, with Liesel bitching through much of it while Hans bit his tongue. As the night drew on, she quieted, exhausted, and agreed to take a break. Hans sat with his back against a thick tree trunk and guided her to curl into his chest with his arms wrapped around her for a blanket. She fell asleep immediately and he soon followed. When they awoke, pale pink light showed through the branches. Hans noticed that the forest was much brighter just ahead, so he helped Liesel to her feet and grasped her hand, leading her to an illuminated clearing.

"How utterly charming," she murmured without an ounce of sarcasm.

Hans couldn't disagree. Before them lay a hilly expanse carpeted with bright green grass. Butterflies dipped and scurried among the patches of blooms randomly scattered about, and even the fat bumblebees looked friendly. A small chicken coop stood aside a flourishing garden in one corner of the yard, and a darling cottage was plopped in the center of the meadow. Everything about the house was delightful, from its thatched roof to the cobblestone path leading up to it.

Liesel ambled dreamily forward. "I'd swear it's made of gingerbread."

Though Hans' stomach had grumbled at the mention of food, he tightened his grip on her hand to hold her back. "Careful. We don't know what kind of people live here."

"I'll bet it's someone who has food and can tell us where we are. _We_ sure don't have a clue."

His brow creased as he examined the rising sun. He could determine east and west, but having gotten turned around so much during the night, he was unsure which direction was the way home. "You're right; we have absolutely no idea where we are—but that only means we could very well be in or near the Undead Thicket, site of that zombie infestation."

Liesel snorted. "That was two years ago, and all the king's men worked for months to ensure the creatures were eliminated. Don't be so paranoid." She yanked her hand from his grasp and marched toward the house.

Hans shook the final remnants of sleep from his head. She was probably right about his paranoia too. How could anything the least bit nefarious exist in this miniature wonderland? "Wait up, Liese."

She slowed her pace, and when his footsteps crunched alongside hers on the stone path, she halted. "Listen." Birds chirped and a faint gurgle beckoned from just over the curve of a modest hill. "Come on," she whispered and grasped his hand to pull him behind her onto the soft grass. They crossed the lawn and when they descended the other side of the hump, Liesel squealed. "A brook! A genuine brook with the most crystal clear water and golden fish, and oh, Hans! Do you have any idea how many of my friends would give their veneered front teeth for a bonafide babbling brook _on property_?"

"On someone else's property?"

"_Our_ property, darling." Her lips curled at the corners, and her eyes took on a predatory glint. "Everyone has their price. We just have to make the owner the right offer."

She walked part way up the hill to look upon the house, and Hans came to stand behind her. "It's a little small for your tastes, isn't it?" he asked.

"Don't be obtuse. We'll tear it down, of course. Or maybe keep it as a guest house if the inside's in good condition." Lifting her hand, she pointed to the left. "We can level that grove over there for the real house."

"How do you propose we pay for all this?"

"A wedding gift from daddy, silly. We weren't all born to paupers, you know." Hans stiffened. "And if the owner's not interested in selling?"

She ignored the coldness in his voice and kept her gaze steady on the house. "Leave that to me. I'll do the schmoozing. You just promise not to be a poop about it."

Hans didn't have an inclination to argue. After all, a new mansion on desirable real estate might help ease the sting of being abandoned at the altar—it wasn't his mission to hurt her; he merely wanted to reclaim his freedom. "Your wish is my most earnest desire." He gestured for them to proceed up the hill.

Liesel giggled and gave him a quick kiss on the mouth with an accompanying squeeze of his firm buttocks. "But I think before the negotiations begin we should see about some breakfast, yes?"

"Yes." As they made their way toward the house, a tantalizing aroma drifted though the air.

Liesel moaned. "It's like pie…and beef stew…and everything wonderful all mixed together." Moving closer, they saw an enormous pie extending onto the ledge of the open double window. "Why, it's huge! I swear, a whole person could fit in there." She ventured far ahead, straight toward the pastry.

"Liesel!" Hans called in a hushed but harsh voice. "Let's at least introduce ourselves first.

"I'm just going to take a bit of crust." She strode directly up to the window's ledge, reaching her pretty fingers to the crimped edges of the dough.

"Don't TOUCH THAT!" The screech had come from inside the house but was loud enough to send Liesel stumbling backward. A series of unseen thumps and shrieks followed, and before Hans and Liesel could think to run away, a cloaked figure threw the front door open and stepped onto the stoop…or rather hobbled. A black hood covered most of the inhabitant's face, but a long, lumpy nose protruded into the brightening daylight.

"We're very sorry sir, uhm, madam, er…" Hans fumbled while Liesel took refuge behind his burly form.

"Ma'am will do," the woman stated in a crackly voice. She stayed silent then, and Hans could make out reflections off the surface of her eyes beneath the hood as she stared at them.

"Begging your pardon, ma'am, we didn't mean to intrude, but we've lost our way and have been wandering the forest throughout the night," Hans said. "If you would be so kind as to provide us with some idea as to our whereabouts, we'd be much obliged."

Liesel snickered behind him. "Nice job, Hoss. Why don't you ask her to rustle us up some grub while you're at it?"

"Care to take over?" he griped out the side of his mouth.

"No, you're doing good. Keep up the sweet talk. Maybe if we're lucky she'll keel over by lunchtime and daddy can buy the place from her estate for a song."

"Charming," he muttered and then returned his attention to the elderly woman. "We could perhaps use a bite to eat before we're on our way. The pie in your window smells divine, and it's surely more than enough for a petite woman such as you."

"Smooth, loverboy," Liesel purred into his ear.

The old woman's hood dipped slightly and then slowly lifted as if scanning Hans from toe to head. "My, you're a beefy one, aren't you?" Unsure of how to respond, Hans stayed silent while the glow of the woman's eyes flicked over him. "Not the pie," she finally grunted. "But there are berries just beyond the creek." She bent and lifted two buckets that had been setting next to the stoop. "Take these and fill them with berries—be sure they're _completely_ filled. When you return, I'll fix a proper breakfast."

* * *

Hans and Liesel cleared the cluster of berry bushes to which the old woman had directed them, but the buckets were only half filled.

"Surely that's enough," Liesel said.

"I don't know; she seemed fairly adamant that they be 'completely' filled. It won't hurt to look around and see if we can find more. Hey!" he shouted when Liesel stuck a berry in her mouth. "That's not going to help us fill them any faster."

They foraged around the area, and after several minutes located enough berry shrubs to fill the buckets with a variety of purples, blues, and crimsons. As they re-approached the house, they noted that the pie was no longer in the window.

The old woman had left the front door propped open, so they crossed the threshold and found themselves in a large, open room. A kitchen counter, cabinets, and a chunky butcher block island stood on one side, and a long, rustic table on the other. Adjacent to the table was a staircase, closed underneath with a door that Hans presumed led to the basement. Further back in the house was a sitting area with sofa, wing-back chair, and fireplace, and beyond that the far wall was covered by darkwood book shelves. The décor was minimalistic, but had certain softening elements, like the calico valances above the windows and the fringed pillows on the plain sofa and chair.

Hans noticed the oversized pie pan on the counter by the sink—with nothing but hunks of leftover crust in it. His eyes slid uneasily over to Liesel, who met his glance as her throat constricted in a swallow. How could the woman have devoured the whole pie so quickly? Hans wondered if perhaps his concerns about zombies hadn't merely been paranoia. The fact that the woman continued to cover her head with the hood, even indoors, didn't allay his concerns.

The old woman hobbled over to the pan and flipped it, dumping the crumbs into the garbage. "This one had rotted. I had to take it into the forest and dump the meat far enough away so that the wolves it attracts won't come to the house."

"It must've been heavy," Hans said, trying to keep suspicion out of his voice. "I could've helped you carry it."

She waved bent fingers in the air as if to wipe away the suggestion. "I have my wagon. Enough talk of rancid meat pie. Your pancakes await, and I assure you, they are anything but spoiled."

A sweetness had entered the woman's brittle voice, and Hans took a moment to examine her more closely. She was small, and even if she unhunched her back, he estimated that she'd barely stand above his shoulders at best. So if she was some kind of monster, he'd have the weight and height advantage. But when she'd exposed her hand to wave it in the air, the flesh there had been pink, healthy and clearly not that of an animated corpse. He chided himself for giving in to fantastical delusions—a product of his lack of sleep, no doubt.

Liesel had apparently also dropped any apprehension and was already at the table, dripping sticky strings of syrup onto a stack of pancakes.

"Would you like carbs with that?" Hans teased, pulling out a chair.

"Oh, shut up," Liesel mumbled through her mouthful.

Hans turned to the homeowner and gestured for her to take the seat he'd readied.

"Me?" she said. "No, oh no. Very kind of you, but I've already eaten."

"Well then, sit with us and chat while we indulge in this delicious feast you've made."

"Oh…but…coffee. Would you like coffee?"

Liesel nodded eagerly, and the woman busied herself in the kitchen while Hans lowered into the chair and hefted a stack of pancakes onto his plate. When the woman eventually shuffled over to the table to set down two steaming mugs, Liesel gushed, "This is amazing! You should seriously consider opening up your own restaurant. I mean, closer to a town, of course. Which I suppose would make living all the way out here an inconvenience, but that could be worked out." She glanced at Hans and gave him a subtle wink.

Oblivious of the web Liesel wove, the shrouded woman wrung her hands under the black fabric of her sleeves. "It's a lovely dream. Though I wouldn't much care for the business side of things. But cooking for others and getting to watch them enjoy my creations…I do miss that."

Liesel's smile widened as she continued shoveling in the delectable food. Hans found the meal tasty enough, but his girlfriend's cold calculations, even while she cooed and charmed the old woman, made his stomach churn. "It must get lonely at times living this far away from everything," he said, wincing when he felt Liesel's foot rub against his shin as she smugly chewed her breakfast. She thought he was helping her spin, but he'd only meant it as a compassionate observation.

"Yes, lonely…yes," the woman muttered before meandering back to the counter, appearing aimless for a moment and then grasping onto the coffee pot and lifting it.

Two sharp cracks sounded, causing Liesel to jump. The woman had likewise flinched, sloshing coffee over the rim of the carafe. "You'll have to excuse these old bones," she said. "They snap, crackle, and pop at the oddest moments. But don't fret—it sounds far worse than it feels."

Hans' expression softened as did his heart toward the old woman. She was a tough old bird, handling her hardships with grace and strength. Like his father. "Won't you please sit with us while we try to figure out a route home?" he said. "Do you have a map?"

"No maps. No maps," she murmured and came to perch uncertainly at the edge of the chair he slid out for her.

"Well, perhaps we can sketch out our own. Do you have paper and a pencil?"

She rose slightly from her chair, but Hans reached his hand to rest it on the fabric covering her forearm. "Stay where you are. Just tell me where it is and I'll get it."

She cautiously lowered back down. "In the drawer next to the sink, you should find what you need there. The closest drawer to the right."

His sturdy footsteps creaked across the wooden planks and a muffled racket erupted throughout the room.

"Oh dear, oh dear." The old woman popped up from her chair and paced haphazardly. The noises settled, and the opening of her hood moved between Liesel and Hans. "My digestion isn't what it used to be, and it's best if I stay standing. You sit," she commanded, "and I'll get your paper. I have to clear these dishes anyhow."

* * *

Hans and Liesel stared down at an indecipherable set of scribbles on the parchment spread out between them. Hans had sketched while the old woman had spoken of her home's position relative to several important landmarks, but the information often conflicted, so Hans would erase and ask her to clarify only to be given yet another series of impossible directions.

"I think it's safe to conclude that we still have no idea where in the hell we are," Liesel said.

"I'm sorry," the old woman responded. "My memory, it's—"

"Yeah, yeah, not what it used to be; got it," Liesel griped. Then her brow smoothed and her tone changed to something more congenial. "Another good reason you should be closer to town, actually. We have doctors there who can help you with all of your many issues. Why, we could even get that nose scaled back a bit."

The woman's bent fingers moved to touch the tip of the protruding feature. "Do you know of a good doctor?"

Liesel gave her a condescending smile. "Sweetheart, I only know the best of everything. I'd be delighted to set you up with the best plastic surgeon this side of Far Far Away, as well as any other type of medical professional you might desire. And then perhaps you could help me too—and I'm not talking about directions."

The old woman's head tilted to the side as she presumably stared out the front of her hood at the beautiful, conniving girl in front of her. "What is it you want?"

"Lady, I want your house and the property upon which it sits. I'll need immediate possession so we can apply for the necessary permits and hopefully finish construction well ahead of the wedding. All of this is pending a proper land survey, of course, as I'll need to verify we're not smack dab in the middle of Zombieland or anything. Don't want that kind of stigma attached to Liesel Manor."

"Liesel Manor?" Hans said, scrunching his face.

Liesel took a much needed breath and beamed at him. "You like it?"

"Not particular—" He was interrupted by a fist pounding heartily onto the table.

"No!" the old woman shouted. "This home is not for sale. I can't leave, not yet; I won't!"

"Okay, calm down," Hans soothed. "No one is taking your home from you. She was merely making an offer, and you've given your answer, so that's that." He locked a warning glare on Liesel, who sat back with a huff and crossed her arms over her chest. "Now, perhaps if we go outside to look at the surrounding forest, your memory will be triggered and we can stop taking advantage of your hospitality."

Out in the sunlight, the trio walked through the clearing, with Liesel leading the way and Hans offering his arm to the old woman as they strayed from the stone path onto uneven ground. She hesitantly slipped her hand around his arm and bent her fingers around his bicep. "So firm," she murmured.

"Like I said," Liesel purred, turning to take in her boyfriend's physique with an admiring leer. "I only know the best of everything. Hans here is _all_ muscle. Not an ounce of soft tissue on the boy." She spun back around and led them to the edge of the forest.

The old woman's thoughts seemed to become more jumbled as she looked out among the trees. She often stopped halfway through her sentences, and her agitation increased.

"Don't push yourself," Hans said. "We're not in a hurry. Just take your time and it'll all become clear. In the meantime, it's a gorgeous day, so why don't you show us around your lovely property."

Liesel gave him a sideways glance and a subtle wink, and he again chastised himself for inadvertently playing right into her plans. He should've known she'd not given up on her pursuit of the property, and though he didn't see how she could turn the tour to her advantage, he didn't doubt that she would.

After following the curve of the perimeter to the brook, with no new directional revelations from the old woman, Liesel veered gradually toward the side of the house. "How many rooms upstairs?" she asked.

"Just two bedrooms and a bathroom," the woman answered

"And a full basement, I presume?"

The old woman slowed her steps to nearly a stop, and Hans followed suit, but Liesel continued on toward the house. When she got there, she bent to peer into the half-window at its base, and the old woman shot forward, her hand slipping from Hans' arm. "It's a terrible mess!" she shouted.

"Don't worry," Liesel said, straightening. "You've got those curtains drawn so tightly I can't see a thing."

As Hans approached behind the two women, he saw the homeowner's shoulders slump in relief. Extending one arm and gesturing away from the house, she said, "I haven't shown you the river birches yet. They're quite lovely."

Liesel ignored her and pointed to a deep fissure in the home's base. "See this? When's the last time you had your foundation checked?"

"Not long ago. I'm sure it's fine. Come along—I think I remember something about the birches. Yes! A large branch on one of them points directly toward the king's castle." She took a few steps in that direction, and Hans meant to follow, but Liesel stopped him by raising the back of her hand to his chest.

"Either this house has suffered severe trauma since the inspection or your guy wasn't very good," she said. "All along here are a series of thin lines—tiny little cracks. Tell you what, to thank you for all of your help, after we get home, I'll have my father send out one of his guys to do a thorough inspection."

After which, Hans was certain, the inspector would conclude that the expense of repairs exceeded the cost of the home and recommend demolition or some such thing

"The gesture is unnecessary," the woman said. "But if you insist."

"Oh, I do," Liesel replied sweetly, but Hans heard the sneer underneath.

"Well then, that's settled," the old woman said. "Come along and we'll look at those trees." This time when they headed across the lawn, she didn't accept Hans' arm. After examining the birches for a few moments, she informed them that the directional branch must've been lost in the winter storms.

Hans ground his molars against each other. He sympathized with the old woman and her feebleness of mind and body, but this was getting far too aggravating. He didn't have reason to believe she was ever going to be able to help them, so he assessed the other options. The way he saw it, there were four: head off aimlessly into the woods from the front of the property, head off aimlessly from the back, or the left, or the right. As he turned over the hopeless situation in his head, fatigue descended upon him. His few hours of sleep on the hard forest floor had hardly been sound. Liesel echoed his sentiments with a half-stifled yawn. If they were going to set off on what promised to be another long trek, they needed to be better rested.

"I hate to trouble you more, ma'am," he said. "But could you see it in your heart to let us rest in one of your upstairs bedrooms? When we wake, we'll perhaps accept a sack of fruit and bread for our journey, but after that we'll be out of your way."

Liesel stretched her arms above her head. "A nap sounds heavenly."

The woman's hood moved up and down. "Yes, yes, that sounds like a most excellent plan."

* * *

Author's Note: Thanks for reading. Just so you know, this is a novella-length story told in 5 chapters.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Hans awoke on the high, overstuffed queen bed and saw through the gauzy curtain that it was still broad daylight. Next to him, Liesel still slept, curled onto her side with her golden locks feathering over her cheek and her soft pink lips rhythmically sucking in and blowing out puffs of warm air. Seeing her so peaceful, he wished things could be different between them. It hadn't been just a financial arrangement he was seeking when he'd first asked her out. He'd grown tired of a different girl every weekend. He wanted one woman—one good woman who made his heart pound every time she looked at him, a woman he could trust with his darkest secrets, who would trust him with hers. A woman with whom he could laugh, love, and build a life. It was too bad it couldn't be with the lovely creature beside him, but she wasn't the right girl.

He tried not to disturb her as he gingerly moved off the bed, but her eyes fluttered open at the movement. "Mmm," she purred. "This bed is so cozy—we're going to have to get her to throw this into the deal."

"Negotiations are going to have to wait until after we've found our way home."

"How are we going to make sure we'll be able to find our way back here?" she asked as she stretched.

"We should probably track our path, regardless, so that we can avoid going in circles. I saw a pile of white landscaping pebbles out back; let's ask if we can grab a sack full of those to leave as a trail, and hopefully we'll find our way to familiar territory before we run out."

"Works for me." Liesel popped off the bed and sought the oval mirror mounted at the back of the dresser, where she smoothed her hair and wiped away the flakes of crusty mascara under her eyes.

When they descended the stairs into the open room, they found two plates filled with sandwiches, pickles, and fried potato wedges on the bulky dining room table. The old woman appeared from behind the cupboard door, which had been opened as she rummaged through the shelves, and although her head was still shrouded under the hood, her smile made itself known though the happy lilt in her voice. "Couldn't send you two off on your journey without feeding you well, could I?"

"You're too kind," Hans boomed while he eagerly took a seat at the table and dug into his sandwich. Liesel sat across from him, but only picked at lettuce and cheese.

"Don't let that food go to waste," the old woman chided good-naturedly. "Here, young man, you have it." Liesel grimaced as the woman grabbed a fistful of potatoes with her bare hand and placed it onto Hans' plate. "A growing boy like you needs all the energy he can get."

"He's not twelve years old," Liesel said. "The only way he can grow is out."

The old woman softly twittered. "Do you see how having you two here has already brightened my mood? I don't know how long it's been since I last laughed like that."

Hans swallowed his mouthful and smiled. "If you like, we'll come back to visit."

The hood bobbed up and down. "That would be lovely. I wonder…no. No, it's too much. I've already delayed you enough with my scattered brains. You two need to get moving right away."

"What time is it?" Hans asked.

"Quarter of one o'clock in the afternoon," she answered.

"Pish posh," Hans said. "As long as we're off by two o'clock, we'll have plenty of daylight to work with. Tell us what you want."

"You're such a kind and gentle soul," the woman murmured, sounding more earnestly doubtful than she had a moment before.

"You're the one who's been immeasurably kind to us," Hans said. "Now, tell us what you need."

"Well…"

"Tick tock, Granny. You've only got till two," Liesel chimed in.

"Just a few bits of yardwork and maintenance. If it wouldn't be too much trouble."

"The moment we finish this delicious meal you've prepared, we'll be at your service," Hans replied.

When they headed out to the yard a few minutes later, Liesel sing-song whispered into Hans' ear, "I think Granny's got a crush on you."

Though the place looked well-enough kept, they did as the woman requested and swept the front stoop, pulled a few weeds from between the cobblestones, and knocked down the beginnings of a hornet's nest by the front door. Wiping her brow, Liesel scowled, appearing to have had her fill of good will for the century.

"If there's nothing else you need, ma'am, we'll be on our way," Hans said. But if I could ask one more favor—might we borrow a sack of pebbles from the pile I spied out back?"

"Pebbles? Why yes, yes. The pebbles out back. Yes…" Her voice drifted off, distracted, or perhaps disoriented, and Hans reflected that she'd done nothing but wait on them since they'd arrived, and old as she was, she had to be exhausted.

"Liese," Hans said out the side of his mouth, "you've got a wide pocket in your dress; could we pile thie pebbles in there so we don't have to make her fetch us a bag?"

Liesel looked at him as if he'd just asked her to lick the cobbled path clean with her tongue and didn't bother to muffle her voice. "Are you insane? This is a dress by Emperor's New Clothing! I've already scraped it down the trunk of a tree and slept on top of it on the filthy ground all night. If you think I'm going to now stretch out the pockets and invite rock dust into its seams, you're positively certifiable!"

The old woman lifted her hand and thrust it forward, palm out. "I'll just get a bag. Meet me out back."

* * *

With a sack full of pebbles, Hans and Liesel were finally ready to venture back into the forest.

"I wonder if you might help me with one more little thing before you go," the old woman said.

Liesel huffed, but Hans contained his impatience and merely said, "Certainly, as long as it will be quick—don't want to lose too much more daylight."

"I simply need a lightbulb changed in the dog pen right over here." She pulled away a large branch from a pile that had been concealing a cage with thick iron bars along three sides and the stone of the house serving as its fourth wall. High on the stone wall was a light fixture.

"With my hunched back I can't reach the socket," the woman explained.

"Why would you possibly care whether or not the light works?" Liesel asked.

"I've been thinking about getting another dog, but I can't bear the thought of him in the pitch black for hours on end. It gets so dark out here. But if it's too much trouble…"

"I'll have it fixed in a snap," Hans assured her. "We know exactly how dark it can get out here."

The old woman produced a bulb from the pocket of her robe, and Hans smiled at her confidence that he'd accept the job. He cleared away the branches, and swung open the door, which had been hanging slightly ajar. The old woman followed him into the cage while Liesel stayed back. Hans crossed the dirt floor and spun out the old bulb, but the new one was too small and wouldn't screw in properly.

"Oh dear," the old woman said. "But wait! I have larger bulbs inside, just give me a moment." She left the cage, shutting the door behind her, and when she returned, the door wouldn't budge. "Oh no." She pulled harder, causing a clanging between the locking mechanism and the bars, but the door refused to open.

"Stand back," Hans said. "Let me try." The bars groaned against his force, but the door didn't give way. After several more tries, he said, "I thought perhaps it was just caught on rust and old age, but it appears the cage must've locked when you closed it. Do you have a key?"

The old woman's hood bobbed slowly up and down. "I have many keys…many, many keys."

"And you've no idea which one is for this cage," Hans concluded, his irritation at last showing itself.

"What's taking so long and what's all that banging?" Liesel asked. Her grumble turned to a giggle when she approached and saw her boyfriend grasping the bars from the inside. "Granny, are you trying to get kinky with my boyfriend? Tsk, tsk."

"This is serious," Hans said. "She accidentally locked the door and doesn't know where the key is." Liesel's eyes narrowed and Hans could tell she was about to pitch a fit. "Look, let's be logical about this." He turned to the old woman. "You said you have lots of keys, so one of them's got to be it. Why don't you have Liesel help you gather them, and then you can try them one by one?"

The keys were brought and tried, but none of them worked. The woman went back into the house several times to dig up more keys, but it was useless; not one of them fit. Finally, Hans conceded that perhaps they should take a break. "You're going to have to go without me," he told Liesel. "You can send a locksmith out here to open the lock or come back with a blow torch to tear these blasted things down." He gave the bars a firm shake.

"Hey, that's not a bad idea," Liesel said, turning to the old woman. "Your basement's probably filled with a bunch of junk, why don't we go down there and see if we can find a sledgehammer or an ax or something to break apart the bars?"

The woman's hood shook vehemently back and forth. "No, there's nothing there that will help us."

Liesel waved her off. "It's probably been so long since you've been down there, you don't even remember what you have. We might even find the key! Come on, let's go look."

"It's not down there!" The woman took a step back and held her arms angled to her sides, as if to block Liesel from getting past her.

"That's ridiculous," Liesel said. "You can't even remember where on this Earth your home is located; how could you possibly remember what's in your basement?"

"The basement is strictly off limits—you would do well to remember that." The woman's voice was stern, and Hans noticed her arms vibrating under the long, black sleeves.

"Liesel," he cautioned. "There's no need to be rude. If she doesn't want you snooping around her basement, we have to respect that. But ma'am, surely you realize the seriousness of this situation. We have to do something."

"Dinner," she said, her typical sweetness returning to her tone.

"Dinner?" Hans and Liesel questioned at the same time.

"I'll make us a nice supper and then we'll all be able to think better on full stomachs and can make a plan." She walked away before either of her two guests could argue.

Liesel turned disbelieving eyes onto Hans. "I swear, I think her plan is to get us so fat she can just give us a push and we'll roll all the way home. I am rather hungry though—you ate most of my lunch."

Hans had only been half listening. "I wouldn't be comfortable sending you out alone so late in the day, so you'll have to spend the night. Maybe while she's sleeping you can sneak into the basement and have a look around."

The corners of Liesel's mouth curled. "Looks like prison's already turning you into a bad boy."

* * *

The woman returned with their meals, and while they ate, she brought out a thin straw mattress that she was able to pass between the bars into Hans' cell, followed by blankets and a pillow. "I'll make up the guest room for you, dear," she said to Liesel, and then left them, not to return for the night.

"So much for talking over plans," Liesel said as the moon rose in the darkening sky.

"She's obviously become addled in her old age. You and I are going to have to figure this one out it on our own. Grab anything you can find down in the basement—keys, saws, sledgehammers, axes. Anything that might help budge these bars. But we don't want to agitate her, so it would be best if you came out with them tonight while she's sleeping."

"You're going to owe me so big after I bust you out of there." Liesel waggled her eyebrows suggestively up and down and blew him a kiss before gathering the dishes and carrying them inside.

The night passed quietly but restlessly for Hans. He was anxious for Liesel to appear with weapons, but she never did. He didn't see her again until she arrived the next morning with a tray of breakfast, which she passed dish by dish through the bars. Her hair was pinned up and had a newly washed sheen to it. She wore a different dress, which was a couple inches too short and perhaps a bit too tight around her curvy parts, but she looked fresh and pretty—contrasting sharply with a disheveled and ripe-smelling Hans.

"You're going to bust me out of here with toast and eggs?" he griped.

"Don't be such a grump, especially when I come bearing gifts." She pulled at the back of her hair and a golden lock swept down to frame one side of her face. Between her thumb and forefinger, she held a hairpin. "I figured we could try picking the lock with this."

He nodded approvingly. "Not a bad idea, but what happened with the basement?"

"No go. That door is locked every bit as tight as your cage, and I tried all the keys we tried here yesterday, but none of them fit there either. This morning Granny got rather touchy when I started thinking out loud about how to get you out, so I tricked her into letting me use these."

She stuck the hairpin into the lock, but when it didn't magically swing open, she kept jamming it in until it snapped. She pulled out another and handed it to her fiancé . He snaked his hand through the bars and maneuvered the tiny piece within the lock, but no matter what he tried, he couldn't manipulate the mechanism.

"It's not going to work," he finally sighed, giving her back the pin. Then he thrust the bag of white pebbles through the bars. "There's no choice—you're going to have to venture into the forest on your own and find someone who can help. Might as well get going now while there's plenty of daylight."

Rather than take the bag, Liesel busied her hands repining her hair. "You know I'm crap with directions."

"Yes, I learned that two nights ago, but what else can we do? I'm assuming your plan to live here didn't include having me locked behind bars."

Her brow furrowed. "Give me one more chance to talk to her. She's a strange one—I swear she must sleep with that hood on; I haven't seen it relax back an inch—but we got on quite well this morning. I think with a little more time I can get her to let me in the basement. I'll be back." She winked and was gone.

Hans strained his neck trying to get a good look around for anything in the vicinity that might free him from his prison, but there was nothing. While he waited, he sat down on his straw mat and leaned against the wall, dozing off. When he opened his eyes again, Liesel was standing at the cage with a tray of sandwiches and a tall, frothy drink.

"Lunchtime, sleepyhead," she teased.

He stood, shaking out the kinks in his leg muscles as he looked up through the ceiling bars at the sky. The sun was straight overhead. "What have you been doing?" he demanded.

"Getting to know our gracious hostess. Here." She pushed the beverage through the bars. "This is a boysenberry smoothie made entirely from scratch. It's sensational, and I told her she absolutely must have these on the menu at her diner."

Hans ran his hand over his gnarly hair, more out of frustration than concern over his grooming. "What are you talking about? Have you completely forgotten that you're supposed to be helping me get out of here?"

"Relax." She gave the smoothie a shake and he reluctantly took it. "I have good news. While we were talking, she remembered that she has a guy who stops by every week or so to check in on her and see if she needs anything. She said he hasn't been here for a few days, so all we have to do is stick it out another night or two until he shows up, and problem solved.

"Well…okay. Not that I relish being stuck in here for another second, but I suppose you finding your way home and then sending someone back here wouldn't be any faster." He glanced around the small space and took a deep inhale, warding off claustrophobia.

"I knew you'd come around," Liesel chirped.

Hans' eyes narrowed as he studied her. "Wait a minute—why are _you_ so happy about the situation?"

She opened her eyes in wide innocence and ran her finger flirtatiously up and down one of the bars. "I'm just happy to know I'll be getting my Hans back in a few days."

"And I don't suppose you have any designs at all on reopening negotiations for the house, do you? I'm quite certain she's not the one who brought up the diner again."

She raised an eyebrow and smirked in triumph. "And what exactly can you do about it locked up here?"

"Liese—" he started to bellow.

"Oh, hush. It's not like she's going to get screwed in the deal. Daddy will pay her a fair price, and she'll get to live out her dream of owning her own restaurant. Everybody wins." She sighed wistfully. "I suppose I'm rather like her fairy Godmother, aren't I?"

Hans didn't bother pointing out that it was Liesel who'd implanted the diner dream in the woman's head in the first place. But taking a bite of the cheese and roasted red pepper sandwich, he reflected that the woman was an amazingly good cook, and it did seem a shame to not share that talent with more people.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Two mornings later, the man still hadn't appeared, and going to the bathroom had become an issue once Hans required more than a projectile whiz between the bars. Liesel smuggled him out a small shovel from the fireplace tool set so he could dig a camper-style latrine, and that seemed to do the trick for the time being. His stubble had sprouted into a rough beard, which Liesel told him she found sexy, but she'd also made it clear that she didn't care for the smell emitting from his pores or the matted hair upon his head, so along with his breakfast, she brought shampoo, sponges, and a bucket of warm soapy water. She soaked the sponges and handed them through the bars, then took away his clothes to launder.

When she returned, she stood back with her arms folded and watched as he ran the sponges over his sculpted nude form. While it was true he'd been eating more heartily than usual, he was passing the many dull hours by doing sit-ups, pushups, and small-range calisthenics, thus burning away the extra calories.

Liesel whistled approvingly. "Looks like we're having beefcake for breakfast."

Hans grinned, exhilarated at feeling and smelling clean again. "More like soap cakes. What's your plan for rinsing me off?"

"Hmm, I hadn't thought that far. Oh, I know." She picked up the bucket. "Wait right there."

"As if I have a choice."

She disappeared around the side of the house and then came back with a bucket full of clear water. Rolling a chopped tree trunk from among the pile of branches, she set it on its end and used it as a stool so she could hoist the bucket above the cage and pour it through the overhead bars. She shrieked out cat calls as Hans danced under the frigid water, running his hands through his thick hair and over his muscles, sloughing off the soap. Another bucket load was required, and by the time that one was drained they were both laughing.

"This might be the best date we've ever had," Liesel said, lowering herself from the stump and leaning against the bars. Her visits had been sparse while she continued to work her way into the old woman's good graces, and Hans was lonely…and his fiancé looked deceptively sweet in the simple country frock she wore.

He tickled a finger tip along the edge of her scooped neckline. "Where are you getting all these pretty dresses?" he asked in a low murmur, inciting her to press further into the bars, allowing enough of herself inside that Hans was able to cup a hand over the curve of her breast.

"She has them left over from someone who used to stay here." As she softly spoke, her lips inched closer to his, just on the other side of a gap between the bars.

"Who?" He leaned closer.

"Who cares?" She closed the space between them and their lips fused into a hungry kiss. But it was cut short when Hans jerked his head back.

"Whoa, somebody had onions on her omelet this morning," he said.

Liesel huffed. "Way to spoil a mood. And no, I didn't have onions. Just cheese and mushrooms."

"Sorry."

Pushing out her lower lip, she asked, "Shall I have a mint and we'll try again?"

"No. Like you said, the mood passed. Could you hand me that towel?" She obliged, and as he fastened it around his waist, he said, "If the man doesn't show up today, we're going to have to go to plan C."

"What happened to plan B?"

"Plan B was to dig a hole underneath the bars big enough for me to crawl through, but I tried that last night and discovered that the bars go about three feet into the earth and end at a cement slab."

Liesel leaned back, her eyes scanning the bars. "This is one intense cage. What kind of dogs does she keep in here?"

"I'm beginning to wonder. I think we need to consider that perhaps our hostess isn't as innocent as she pretends to be."

"What do you mean?"

"There's a very good possibility she's playing us."

Liesel laughed. "_Her_ playing _me_? I don't think so.

"Think about it Liese—she acted like her knees were too stiff and her back too frail to do those chores she had us to do, but the house had clearly been well kept. She was intentionally stalling."

"She's just lonely and wanted us to stick around a little longer."

"Or a lot longer," Hans replied, nodding his head toward the bars of his prison.

"So, let me get this straight—you think she purposely locked you in this cage so that she could have permanent company?"

"From your reports it sounds as if you've done quite the job of entertaining her. And she said she missed cooking for others. With the meals she's continuously sending out here, she's certainly fulfilling that desire."

Liesel rolled her eyes. "You're obviously going batty from being stuck alone in a small space for so long. We better hope that man hurries up and gets here before you've slipped all your marbles."

"Don't you think it the slightest bit odd that I haven't seen so much as the tip of her bumpy nose since our first day here? Why's she avoiding me?"

"Perhaps I was wrong about which one of us she had the crush on." Liesel winked. "Look, I'm making wonderful progress with her, but time is ticking and I may only have a matter of hours to finish buttering her up, so I'd better get back inside. Meanwhile, instead of coming up with conspiracy theories, use your brain cells to read those books I brought you yesterday."

* * *

Other than returning to bring Hans his freshly laundered clothes and meals, Liesel stayed scarce, no doubt putting on the charm full force. Hans gave up hope of the handy man showing up that day when the sky took on the purplish cast of late evening. He'd taken Liesel's advice and immersed his mind in a good book, but he couldn't read by moonlight, and so he sat with his back pressed against the stone wall and tried to mentally work his way out of the cage. He planned to order his fiancé into the forest the next morning to find home and send someone back for him. Though, judging by her reactions earlier that day, it'd be more like begging than ordering.

While he thought, he fidgeted with the small fireplace shovel, tapping onto the ground. He noticed that the head of the shovel was getting loose, so he flipped it in his hands to tighten it, but then had a different idea. He spun the shovel head until it came entirely off the spike it had been screwed onto. Remaining seated, he tilted the pole to the side of his shoulder and touched the sharp tip to the mortar between two stones. He scraped and watched dust come away from the wall. Smiling, he scraped again. Scratching an escape hole through the wall might take forever, but the way things were going, he had nothing but time. Eventually, he had to stop working to sleep, but by then he'd carved a two inch deep groove around and entire stone.

In the bright morning light, Liesel tapped on the bars to wake him. He opened his eyes to see her holding the customary tray laden with delectables. Her smile was as fresh and serene as the morning dew that had settled all around him, and she wore her own dress, all washed and clean, though he noted that the fabric strained a bit around her middle. She cheerfully hummed while passing the dishes through to him.

"Does it seriously not bother you the least little bit that I've been locked up here for days?" he griped.

"This again? You know, I'm liable to stop coming all together if all I get from you is a whiny attitude. And don't you dare start with your paranoia again. She's a dear, sweet, feeble-minded old woman, and I'm very close to getting her to sign an intent-to-sell agreement. We'll need you as a witness, so when I bring her out here, you be nice! Now we just have to hope the handyman doesn't show up and ruin everything."

That's when Hans decided not to mention his plan to dig through the wall. In Liesel's current state of mind, she'd probably re-grout the stones herself to keep him from messing with her plans. So he secretly worked on his project, being careful to stop when meal time approached, propping the mattress against the wall to cover his progress. The woman never accompanied Liesel to sign any documents, and by supper time, the conniver's mood had soured considerably.

By late evening, Hans had loosened the rock enough that he could wiggle it. He continued to scrape feverishly, getting more anxious with each crumbling segment. The hole resulting from one removed rock would hardly be big enough for him to climb through, but if he could get a good look at exactly what was on the other side of that wall—his guess was the wooden backing of the wall-to-wall bookshelves—he could formulate an exit strategy.

The moon was high and surrounded by inky black sky when he was finally able to slip his fingers around both sides of the stone and pry it completely out of the wall. A bit more scraping, slow and quiet, cut an eye-sized hole through the plaster inner wall. Rather than looking at the back of a bookshelf, he peered into a dimly lit room. At first he couldn't make out anything distinct, but when his gaze wandered to the source of the light—a single candle set upon a vanity—he was surprised to see the figure of a woman sitting at a vanity with her back to him. It wasn't Liesel. This woman's hair was shorter, cropped unevenly in the back, and in the wavering glow of the candlelight, it appeared to be light brown. It wasn't the old woman either; the smooth, supple flesh of a young woman's shoulders and the top portion of her back were exposed above what appeared to be a large towel wrapped around the rest of her torso.

The mirror was at such an angle that Hans couldn't see the girl's reflection, and so he didn't worry that she'd see him, and the hole was yet small enough and the room dim enough that he had a reasonable hope she wouldn't notice it if she happened to turn around. He'd hold off on making the opening any larger until he could determine whether she was friend or foe. For the moment, he simply watched, his vision improving as his eye adjusted to the lighting…and his libido awakening during his clandestine observation.

Her hair appeared damp, as if she'd just washed it. A recent bath would explain the towel as well, and he imagined her flesh still warm. She lifted a brush to pull it through her short locks, and with her movement, the towel slid lower, edging further downward with every stroke, exposing a new bump of vertebrae each time it slipped. The candle's flame washed her in a sensual bath of pulsating light, and Hans became entranced by the soft glow upon her skin. He imagined his hands helping the towel along, his lips trailing after it.

By the time the towel fell all the way down, he had both palms pressed flat against the wall and his face shoved as far as it could go into the recess, his eye capturing all it possibly could. She left the towel bunched around her bottom and kept brushing, allowing Hans to appreciate the dimples on either side of the base of her spine. When she switched the brush to her other hand and lifted that arm, he could make out the small bulge of the side of her breast. He watched patiently, but eagerly, as her torso twisted ever so slightly. At some point she'd turn, perhaps even stand and let the towel fall completely away, allowing him to see all of her, every inch of that silken, nubile body.

"What are you doing?"

He flinched at the sound of Liesel's harsh voice behind him and turned around, careful to cover the gaping hole as he stood. With a full moon overhead, it was brighter outside than it had been in the room.

"I know you're getting frustrated with the situation," she said, "but you don't have to literally beat your head against the wall."

He raised an eyebrow, relieved she was clueless. "I don't appear to have anything else to do, so why not?"

Liesel sighed and wrapped her hands around the bars, a somewhat chagrinned expression playing at her features. "Look, I was having trouble sleeping and just want you to know that I'm starting to see things your way. I think she might be toying with me. Every time it seems like we're close to making a deal, she throws up some new barrier or gets confused. And there's definitely something going on with the basement—she won't budge at all on letting me down there to have a look around. She's hiding something, and I'm out of patience."

"So you'll head into the forest tomorrow? You realize that your father must've sent teams of search parties out for you by now—it won't take you long at all to run into one of them."

Liesel scrunched her face and frowned. "No, I'm not heading into the forest. Not yet anyhow, I'm working out another plan. But you're right—if daddy doesn't just assume I ran off on another impulsive vacation, his overprotectiveness could put me on a tighter time table."

"So what's your plan?"

She yawned. "Still working out the kinks, I'll tell you tomorrow after I sleep on it." Before she turned to leave, a smirk crept across her lips. "Though I think I might just leave you locked up a little longer—seems to make you happier to see me." Her eyes flicked down toward his obvious arousal. Then she winked and was gone.

Hans waited until he was sure Liesel must be back in the house before reapplying his eye to the hole, but all was black and silent in the room. He propped the rock back into place and lay down to a restless sleep.

* * *

Throughout the night, Hans thought about what the presence of this other woman could mean. He tried to map out the location of the room relative to the rooms he'd been in. It didn't make any sense—his cage was at the back of the house, and inside, the back wall had been all bookshelves. It seemed this must be some sort of hidden room. The only thing Hans could conclude was that this girl was a prisoner just like him. In truth, Liesel was a prisoner too, just held by different kinds of bonds.

He debated how much to tell Liesel about his discovery. She was now suspicious of the old woman too, but she'd also been dead set on getting this property, and as stubborn as she was, Hans wasn't convinced she'd give up on it. He didn't see how, but he was afraid his fiancé might find a way to turn this additional prisoner to her advantage, and though Hans hadn't spoken a word to this other girl, hadn't even seen her face, he felt oddly protective and didn't want to expose her as a possible victim of Liesel's schemes. So he concluded that he should continue to work alone until he knew more about the situation. He also wanted to hear more about Liesel's new plan first.

Over breakfast, she explained, "I'm actually back to an earlier plan. Something's strange about that basement, and I'm betting it's either illegal or it does, in fact, threaten the structural integrity of the home. Either way, if I can just uncover it I can either get her arrested or the house condemned, making the acquisition of the property a snap."

"And how long do you suppose that will take?" Hans asked, his impatience clear.

"The other option is to push her into the oven the next time she decides to bake us a cake," Liesel retorted.

"No, the other option is to give up this nonsense about the property and focus on getting me out of here."

"It's always got to be about you, doesn't it?"

"Liese—" he stopped, reminding himself that he had another angle to work toward his freedom. "Okay, fine, but please try to get down into the basement soon. Does…does anything else about the house seem odd to you?"

"Like what?"

"Like anything. Have you seen signs of any other visitors?"

She shook her head.

"How many rooms total are in the house?"

"Why?"

"If the structure turns out to be sound, we might want to keep it as a guest house as you said before."

Liesel smiled. "Aha, so you like the idea of living here as much as I do."

"Right. So how many rooms?"

"Well, there's the big room that includes the dining room and living room, with the kitchen off to the side, and the two bedrooms upstairs plus a bathroom between them. That's it."  
Nothing behind that wall of bookshelves? No tucked away room?"

Liesel pulled her eyebrows together, thinking. "No. The whole wall is shelves."

"That's what I thought."

The rest of the day passed far too slowly for Hans' nerves. He was wary of pulling the rock away during the day because the light cast from the outside through the hole might grab attention, but after convincing himself there was no explanation other than the girl being a fellow prisoner, he threw caution aside and pulled out the rock. All was gloomy inside, but by scraping away more plaster and tripling the size of the hole, enough light filtered in that he could determine that the room was empty other than the vanity, a wooden rocking chair, a tall wardrobe, and a single bed. Very odd indeed.

He replaced the rock and spent most of the day lounging on his mat, fluctuating between napping and thinking. At lunch and dinner, Liesel didn't report a new visitor, so she obviously hadn't seen the girl either. He had no idea what to make of the situation. That night, he carefully removed the rock and was encouraged when a soft, yellow glow shined through the hole.

The girl was in the room, humming softly as she rocked in the chair and pulled thread through a pile of fabric on her lap. He recognized the gentle, soothing tune. It was an old folksong, one his father had sung to him when he was a boy. Her face was bent over her work, but by the light of many candles, he saw a small, pointed nose, and a chin that formed a delicate V. He couldn't tell the color of her eyes, but he could see they were large and round. Innocent.

His guess was that she was a few years younger than himself. He further conjectured that the old woman was using the girl as a servant. At night she made her sew, and during the day…why, during the day she probably stuck her down in the basement! It made perfect sense—that was how she kept this prisoner out of Liesel's sight and why she was so determined not to let anyone else down there.

The girl's humming turned to words, and he was instantly mesmerized by her clear, pretty voice. Her singing drew him in so much that when she came to the chorus, he had to clamp his lips together to stop from joining in. He stayed silent and rather than considering the best possible approach for striking up a conversation, he found himself lulled by her voice and her steady, nimble hands as they worked the thread. Too soon, she set her sewing aside and stood, stretching out her thin arms, and then, without Hans being prepared for it, she lifted her dress over her hips, above her waist, and all the way off, tossing it toward the wardrobe. She wasn't as curvy as Liesel, but her subtle contours were nonetheless pleasing, and Hans very much wanted to continue gawking when her hands reached around to unfasten her bra…but he didn't.

He couldn't betray that innocence in her eyes, the sweetness of her voice, by gazing upon her nakedness without permission. He respectfully pulled back, giving her ample time to slip on her nightgown before allowing himself to once again peer through the hole...and if he caught a peek of something naughty, well, it wouldn't be his fault that she was so slow. He thrust his head forward and shouted out loud when he was met by a large, distinctly green iris staring back at him.

"Get a good gander, did you?" the girl asked.

"I…no, I…I stopped looking before anything went too far."

"I know exactly when you stopped looking—that's when the moonlight shot a beam across my room. Scared me half to death."

"I'm sorry miss, madam, mon cheri…"

She pulled her face back and laughed lightly. "Calm down. I'm not accusing you of anything…well, other than damages to property. What did you hope to accomplish, digging through the wall?"

"I thought to escape. You see, I'm a prisoner just like you."

"Like me?"

He was confused by her confusion. "You _are_ being held here against your will, are you not?"

She paused a moment before replying, "I can't leave, if that's what you mean."

"What else would I mean? Never mind, the point is, I was hoping to find a way out of here and instead found you. But working together, perhaps we can both be freed."

She sat back on her heels and frowned. "I don't think so. You may very well gain your freedom, but me…I'm losing hope of ever leaving this place."

"No, don't lose hope." Turning his head to the side, he listened intently, and when he didn't hear signs of anyone approaching, he continued. "I promise, now that I'm aware of your presence, I won't leave without you. But I'll need your help. You must tell me everything."

"Everything? I don't think so."

"Why not?"

"It's—" A long, mournful sigh broke her words and she shrugged. "It's very complicated."

"Well, why don't you start by telling me about the old woman. What do you know about her?

"Oh my, start with a hard one, why don't you? Well, she's…lonely."

Hans nodded. "So I've gathered. Is that why she keeps us here? For company?"

"Company? Yes, perhaps that too."

"Too? What else?"

With the candlelight flickering eerily behind her, the girl's pallor changed to something sickly. "I think I should get to ask the next question."

"Of course, yes. We must learn to trust one another. Go ahead."

"Does your fiancé know about me?"

"Liesel? How do you know about her?"

"You have to answer my question before you get to ask another."

"Fair enough. No, I haven't told Liesel anything about digging through the wall or about you."

"Why not?"

Hans' mouth went sideways as he smirked. "Not your turn."

She blew a few strands of her whispy bangs into the air. "Fine. Go ahead."

"How do you know about Liesel? She said she hasn't seen anyone else in the house."

"I've been here a lot longer than you two, built up a certain rapport with the 'old woman,' as you call her. She tells me things. Now, why haven't you told your girl about me or your plan?"

Hans let out a mirthful grunt. "Now _you're_ asking the hard questions. Let's just say I don't entirely trust her. She's always got an ulterior motive, and in this case it's to buy the land from the old woman. Wait—would you rather I call her something else? 'Old woman' seemed to bother you."

"Old woman is fine."

"Okay. Well, the idea of acquiring the property overshadows Liesel's interest in breaking me out of here, so I don't see any reason to include her in on my plan of escape."

"Why would you marry someone you don't trust?"

"Uh uhhh," Hans chided. "My turn."

"No it isn't."

"Yes it is."

The girl shook her head from side to side. "The 'old woman' question counted." Hans tilted his head back and let out a laugh, and the girl's resulting smile was mischievous and sweet at the same time. Her tone softened, seeming almost reluctant. "Are you going to answer?"

Hans had to take a moment to recall the question. "Ah yes, why marry someone I don't trust." Here he had to weigh how much he trusted the person he was talking to. He studied her through the small opening, and couldn't explain why, but he trusted that earnest face, enough to answer this question honestly at least. "The simple answer is, I'm not going to marry her. She just thinks I will. A few days ago it seemed so very important that I keep her believing that, but I don't really give a damn what she thinks any more."

The girl's lips twitched at the corners as if she was fighting a smile, and Hans used his next question to ask, "Do you mind if I make this opening bigger, so I can see you better?

The girl's eyes narrowed for a moment before she answered. "Only an inch wider around all edges, but then I have to ask—will you please stop digging? It's a very touchy situation and things would become difficult for me if you were to continue."

Hans didn't want to agree to that, but he also didn't want to put the girl in danger. "I'll stop—for now."

He used the spike to carve away more plaster to her specifications, and when they each sat back just the right distance, they could see each other's entire faces. The enlarged hole was now big enough for Hans to reach his arm through and cup it around her lovely face, and he fought the urge to do exactly that. He knew he should be anxious about feeling such a strong attraction toward someone he'd just met, but the increase in his heart rate as he looked upon her and she stared back at him had nothing to do with anxiety.

"It's your turn," the girl reminded him.

Hans shook his head back into focus. "Besides loneliness, what's the other reason she keeps us here?"

The girl pressed her lips together and looked down, her forehead creasing as she did so. "I guess I can't be entirely sure. She keeps changing her mind."

"About…"

She backed away. "It was a mistake for us to talk. Cover the hole and forget you found me. I won't help you. I can't."

Hans was disturbed by the abrupt change in her tenor, and scrambled to keep her talking. "You can help me. You can do whatever you want."

She glared at him, a sudden anger flashing in her eyes. "You don't know anything about me and what I can and cannot do."

"I know that you're trapped here. I know that during the day she moves you to the basement—"

She gasped and her eyes went wide.

"Why are you so scared? What happens in the basement?"

"You don't know anything!" After her loud shriek, she glanced around the room and then lowered her voice to a harsh whisper. "Nothing happens in the basement. I don't know why everybody's so obsessed with it. Just leave me alone!"

She shot up to standing and crossed the room to the opposite side of the armoire. Leaning into it with one shoulder, she attempted to shove it. The hefty piece of furniture groaned and scraped half an inch closer to the hole. She circled around to the other side and squatted to get a grip on the underside and pulled, but only ended up flat on her bum.

Hans took pity. "Stop. I'll cover the hole and give you your privacy. I also promise to drop the subject of the basement if you'll to talk with me again tomorrow night. Please don't block me entirely."

She stared at the floor. "I'll think about it."

"That's all I ask. But…may I have one more question tonight? You don't have to answer if you don't want to."

Keeping her head tilted down, she said curtly. "Go ahead."

"What's your name?"

She inhaled deeply, her shoulders rising in the process. "Greta," she finally answered, still not looking at him. Then she pushed herself to standing and walked straight toward the bed.

"Good night, Greta," Hans said softly and replaced the rock.

* * *

**Author's Note**: I had no time to give a final read-through today, so I'm sorry if I subjected you to extra typos. Thanks for reading - and extra thanks for reviewing. :)


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"You have to get into the basement—today," Hans told Liesel when she brought him breakfast the next morning.

"How do you know I didn't get in last night?"

"Did you?"

"No."

He clenched his jaw before continuing. "Liesel, please. I'm asking you to get down there any way possible, and if you should find someone else being held against her will, do what you can to get her out and run for the forest, just run for it and don't worry about me. I'll fend for myself."

"Oh, sweetie." Liesel stuck her hand through the bars to caress the side of his face. "You are such a kind and caring man, and so sizzling hot and studly. Please, please don't go nutty on me."

He yanked away from her touch. "I'm serious! Think about it—remember during our first meal here, how we kept hearing sstrange noises in the house, but the old woman blamed it on her stomach or her bones? And how evasive she was about those cracks at the base of the house? Why do you suppose she's got the basement curtains drawn so tightly? You've said yourself that something strange must be going on down there."

"Something like a shifted foundation or perhaps an elicit harvest from the forest vegetation, not abduction. She might be eccentric, but she's not capable of that."

"Liesel! Look at me; look at you. What do you see between us?" He smacked the bars. "_I've been abducted_!"

"Shh!" Liesel hissed. "She'll hear you."

"Who cares! As matter of fact, I hope she does hear me—because it looks like getting her to come clean is the only way I'm going to get through your thick skull!" The edges of Hans' vision blurred with red as his rage took over.

Liesel stepped back and glared at him. "You just won't inconvenience yourself for one moment, will you? I'm doing this for us, for our future happiness."

Hans gripped the bars and stared at the ground, forcing out a calming breath and making the decision to come clean himself. "She's taken another prisoner."

"What?"

He raised his gaze to look at his fiancé's gaping face. "I've seen her."

It took a moment before Liesel answered, and when she did, her voice came out in a parched croak. "Where?"

"I suspect the old woman has her locked in the basement at the moment, but I'll show you where I've seen her at night." He felt like a traitor as he pulled the stone aside, but Liesel was being completely unreasonable and this was the only way he saw to make her understand the seriousness of the situation. After exposing the hole, he stood to the side, waiting for Liesel's reaction to the hidden room.

She stared at the crater in the wall and squinted with her eyes pointed directly at the hole, but only appeared confused at first…and then deeply troubled. "Hans, it's only a dark, empty hole.

"It's dark in there right now, but perhaps from another angle, you can see. Try over there."

She moved to the side of the cage to where he'd pointed, but only shook her head, a sympathetic frown pouting her lips. "Sweetheart, I see how much you want me to be able to see what you do, but I just don't. I applaud your ingenuity in trying to dig your way out, but darling, you've only reached the back of the bookshelves. Please stop or you'll alert her to your activities. I see now that you've been pushed as far as you can go, and I'm going to get you out of here soon. Very soon."

Hans' mouth went dry. He looked from her to the black, gaping hole. There was no way to get her close enough to see beyond the darkness, and she obviously wasn't going to take his word for it. He didn't like the idea of her thinking him insane, but if it helped speed her along in securing his freedom—and then he could rescue the girl himself—he wouldn't fight her any more.

Liesel watched him cautiously. "Okay, well, I'd better get inside. Just pile up the dishes and I'll pick them up later. Don't worry, baby; I'll handle this." As she stepped around the cage and walked away, he heard her mutter, "…and you're _so_ going to owe me when this is over."

When she came back with lunch, he kept purposely quiet and even twitched a couple times for good measure. She likewise stayed primarily silent and seemed almost afraid of him, unsure of how to handle this new version of Hans. During that awkward interaction they were more like polite strangers than anything else, and Hans realized that for all there prior intimacy, there was nothing at all between them. No connection he'd miss when they were no longer a couple.

Dinner went much the same, and not long afterward, Hans was surprised when the loose stone fell from the wall and thumped onto the ground. He went immediately to the hole and looked through to see Greta sitting slightly back from the opening and smiling. "I hope you don't think it's too forward for a girl to call a boy."

Hans chuckled. "It's good to see you.' He was shocked by how very true those words were. He'd only ever seen her twice, only talked to her once, but as he now gazed upon her, he realized that he'd missed her all day long.

"You remember your promise?"

He nodded his confirmation. "As a matter of fact, how about we skip the questions altogether tonight, and you just tell me about yourself—whatever you wish to share." He wanted to assure her of his friendship before scaring her away again. Besides, if Liesel truly was going to move faster, there was no urgency with Greta.

She narrowed one eye.

"I'm not trying to pull anything," Hans assured her. "I just want to get to know you better since it looks like we'll be spending quite a bit of time together."

Greta shrugged. "I would have no idea what to say."

"Well, how about you start from the beginning—your first memory."

She relaxed back on her heels and quirked her face as she thought. After several moments a serene smile washed over her lips and spread into her eyes. "Sitting on my father's lap while he played the flute. There was a certain song that was my favorite, and whenever he'd finish, I'd plead, 'Again papa, again.'"

"By any chance was that the song you were singing last night while you sewed?"

She let out a gentle laugh. "Probably."

"My father used to sing it to me, too. Well, usually my mum would start it and he would join in, off key as she always teased."

"My mum would dance while daddy played, and sometimes she'd scoop me into her arms to twirl with her. I loved her so much, and so did my father."

"She must be worried about you."

The skin between Greta's eyebrows crinkled, and she shook her head slowly back and forth. "She doesn't realize I'm gone. She left us. We never knew what happened to her, exactly. She went out one day to bring a basket of food to a sick friend who lived across the forest and never came back. It was around the same time a large, malevolent wolf was patrolling the forest, so chances are he got her, and my father has never forgiven himself for letting her go by herself."

"I'm sorry to hear that. But surely this means your father must be especially worried for you're your safety."

Her mouth pressed into a straight line, and she shook her head as if to wave off his comment. "Tell me about your family. Any brothers and sisters?"

"A sister. But she met some prince at a dance, fell head over heels immediately, and now she's moved away to his kingdom and we hardly ever hear from her. My parent's try to hide it, but I know they're fairly heartbroken about the situation."

Both Hans and Greta went silent, lost in their own thoughts, and then Greta said, "Tell me something happy from your childhood."

Hans smirked. "Yeah, I guess this conversation's getting rather morose." He went on to tell her funny stories about growing up in his neck of the woods, and she shared some of hers. In the middle of Hans' retelling of the time he stuck his thumb into a plumb pie, a loud crack emanated from somewhere inside the house. Greta turned toward her door just as another bang sounded, followed by the unmistakable creak of splintering wood.

"No!" Greta shrieked and shot up to her feet and across the room before Hans could utter another syllable. She shoved the door open and rushed through, not bothering to shut it as she disappeared into the main room of the house. Hans couldn't see anything beyond the darkened doorway, but he heard clearly.

"Stop!" Greta shouted. "Don't go down there!"

"Who the hell are you?" It was Liesel's voice. "Well, whoever you are, looks like it's your turn to get busted down."

Greta's ensuing yelp was followed by a heavy thud. Footsteps slapped, and Hans heard the groaning of old steps. His heart pounded; he wasn't sure what to wish for. The basement had been his goal, but the idea of anyone going down there distressed Greta so much that he was no longer sure it was the right thing to do. While his thoughts whirred and his blood pumped, a sound wholly unlike anything he'd ever heard before rolled up the basement steps, across the home, into Greta's bedroom, and through the hole. It was like the growling of a large animal, but not. It didn't rumble deep from the creature's interior, but was more shallow, like a man's grunt.

Liesel's voice grew louder as she apparently backtracked up the stairs. "Easy, easy now. Sorry to interrupt your nap. You just…just crawl right back down and I'll pretend I never saw you, 'kay?" A snarl was followed by Liesel's shriek. "Ew! Let go of me you filthy, disgusting, slime bucket!" The creature grunted in pain, and Liesel gloated, "Ha! Never mess with a girl wearing spiked heels. Hey! Hey! That's genuine Corinthian leather, jerko—give it back!"

Hans heard Greta moan lightly, and then the rustling of fabric and footsteps running toward the basement door. "Hurry, hurry up the steps," Greta shouted in a voice that sounded somewhat weak. "Get behind me and we can block the doorway with this."

"He's got my foot!" Liesel sounded irritated at first, but her next words were tinged with terror. "Son of a Merryweather, he's a lot stronger than he looks."

"Grab my hands!"

The next sounds Hans heard were gasps and grunts from the two women, by which he assumed Greta had Liesel's hands and was trying to pull her up. Liesel's scream ripped through the house and by the time it reached Hans, it was still as loud as if she'd been standing right next to him. He went numb.

"Stop! Leave her alone, please, please stop," Greta whimpered, but she was only answered by snarling, snapping, and crunching as Liesel's howls became ever more frantic until they stopped all together.

While the beast continued his feral attack, Greta moved about the house in a flurry, and soon Hans heard the steady pounding of a hammer. When that rhythm ceased, he could no longer hear any sounds from the monster that had apparently ripped apart his fiancé; the sound had been replaced by Greta's weeping. Slowly, her feet dragged across the floor until she'd reentered her bedroom and pulled the thick door closed, slumping back against it and sliding to sit on the floor. "I told her to stay out of the basement. I _told_ her," she cried between small gasps, her unfocused eyes darting around the room.

"Greta!" Hans snapped, coming out of his stupor. Her eyes landed on him and widened. "This has obviously gotten way beyond your control, and by the sounds of it I'm too late to help Liesel, but I can still help you—I _want_ to help you. And now you're going to let me. You'll start by telling me every little thing you know about the woman who lives here and what she keeps in the basement."

Greta's delicate features crumpled, and she buried her face in her hands. "The things I know about her, oh, the wicked things I know about her…" Overcome, her entire body shook as she wailed on and on.

There was nothing Hans could do but wait for her to regain control. As he watched her small body tremble, he realized that he should be equally anguished at the untimely demise of young Liesel. He was horrified by the violent way in which she'd lost her life and would mourn her, but at that moment, his dominant emotion was agony at not being able to cradle Greta in his arms and soothe away her sobs.

Hans sat with his back to the wall. It had become too painful to watch Greta, but he listened intently, ready to again confront her once her misery had subsided. While he waited, he tried to absorb what had happened. It had all occurred so quickly that it didn't feel real. But the weeping girl on the other side of the wall told him that it was, that he hadn't imagined it or misinterpreted what he'd heard. Liesel was dead.

She'd gone down fighting and never had to know real fear until those last wretched moments. He regretted not being nicer to her these last few days, and he felt bad that he wasn't distraught over the loss, but he wouldn't be hypocritical. He didn't love Liesel—he didn't even like her—so while he wished the best for her soul, he wouldn't miss her.

Greta's lamenting calmed until it was only sniffles, and then the sound of light footsteps made their way toward him. "Hans?" she called softly.

"Yes," he answered, shifting toward the hole.

"No, stop. I will tell you what I know about the old woman, but you must stay where you are. If I have to watch your reaction, I may not be able to go through with it."

"Okay." He settled back against the wall, resolved to listen and not interrupt.

"It all started with the zombie infestation. She lived in a village away from where it was happening, but not far enough, and the zombies were working their way ever closer. So the villagers took up arms and formed a vigilante group to seek out the monsters and beat them back before they reached the town.

"A man she loved very much prepared to go with them, and she was upset. She tried telling him how foolish it was to think a group of common villagers could fight off the growing zombie hoard. She said it was a job for the royal army and that he should let them take care of it. And then she told him he was too old for such a fight. But he wouldn't listen. He insisted that a man, no matter what age, had to take responsibility for his own fate and that of the ones he loved. Such gallantry was one of the things she so very much admired about him, so she stopped arguing. They said their teary goodbye, and he went off.

"He did return home, having successfully aided the king's men in eradicating the zombies, and she was overjoyed. Until she discovered something he'd been trying to hide—it was just a small wound at the crook of his elbow, but it had turned grey. When she walked in on him administering ointment to it, she instinctively knew it was undead flesh. He quickly reassured her that everything was going to be fine. He'd only been wounded, not killed, and he'd never heard of anyone turning into a zombie without being dead first. Nevertheless, as soon as he'd noticed the oddly colored wound—while the vigilantes were making their way home—he'd wandered into the forest alone, despairing over what to do and afraid to talk to any of the other men about it. As paranoid as everyone was, he'd have been axed and burned at the first hint of infection. That's when he came across a funny little man who sold him an ointment to stop the spread.

"But the wound grew anyhow, taking over nearly his whole forearm. When it became difficult to mask the scent of his rotting flesh, he finally admitted that stronger precautions were necessary. So the two of them stole away deep into the forest with a cache of medical supplies. Under his instruction, she administered anesthesia and amputated the arm above the elbow, crafting a tourniquet to stem the bleeding. Then she burned the arm, and led him through the forest. He was very weak, and she knew they needed help, so when they came upon this house, she appealed to the owner. Completely ignorant of the infection, the elderly woman who lived here agreed to take them in until he could recover.

"His strength improved daily, and it seemed he'd be well enough for the trip home soon. But one morning when he stripped off his shirt so that Granny, as Liesel called her, could change his bandages, small grey patches decorated his abdomen. She panicked, but he quickly calmed her before the other woman would hear, assuring her that it would be okay. He still had ointment from the little man and asked her to help him apply it.

"The patches stabilized, but something changed about him on the inside. His eyes at times appeared vacant, and he asked for progressively rarer cuts of meat at meal time. He asked her to kill him. He didn't want to become what he was turning into, and he didn't want to cause harm to others. He told her exactly how to accomplish the murder, but she refused. He was all she had in the whole world, and she loved him so. The ointment would work for the time being, she insisted, and when he'd fully recovered from the amputation they'd head into the forest and find the funny little man. He'd help them.

"And then one evening at dinner, their hostess held forth a platter of steaks, but he took her hand and ate that instead. His entire countenance became crazed and he pounced on the woman, ripping into her flesh with his teeth. Granny could only stare on in horror as he indulged in an orgy of pleasure, slipping around in the blood that coated him as he gorged. It was horrible, and she understood that the disease had progressed too far; it was beyond her control. She knew what she had to do…but she couldn't.

"He became very calm after he'd eaten, but when she approached to apply the ointment, he swatted the medicine away and grabbed her by the wrists. She flinched, expecting him to attack, but instead his eyes opened wide and he pleaded, 'You must. You cannot deny what I'm becoming…what I already am. You must.'

"'Come with me,' she'd said as fat tears leaked out of her eyes. She led him to the basement, and that's where he's been ever since."

Greta stayed silent, and Hans braved a question. "I don't understand—the zombie infestation happened two years ago. Shouldn't he have expired from starvation by now?"

"He's been fed," she answered, an ominous strain in her voice.

"H—how?"

"She went in search of the funny little man, but to no avail, so she did the only other thing she could think of and sought medical expertise. She went into a town where she was unknown and identified a doctor who specialized in infectious and rare diseases. She lured him to this house by promising a subject for breakthrough medical research. But the doctor didn't survive the first examination. After that, she resumed her search for the little man. She didn't find him, but deep in the forest she came upon a large bearded man who was so intent upon his work that he didn't notice her approach. She concealed herself behind a tree and observed to find that his work was sinister—he had come there to bury a corpse.

"Such good fortune! After the man left, she returned to the spot with her own tools and dug up the body, brought it home, and rolled it down the steps so the man in the basement could have another meal and sustain his strength while she figured out a permanent fix. About a month later, losing hope of ever finding the little man, her wanderings led her back to the site of the burial, and she was surprised to see another patch of freshly packed dirt. She dug into and was delighted to uncover another freshly expired body. And so it continued; a new body would arrive approximately every month, and she would bring it home.

"The meals were obviously the unfortunate victims of a serial killer, but she hadn't been the one to kill them, and she couldn't bring them back to life, so she didn't see the harm. However, tossing bodies down the basement stairs pushed her sensibilities too far, and she worried that appealing to the man's zombie side might only prolong his condition, so she instead appealed to his human side by chopping up the meat and loading it into freshly baked pot pies. Of course, she had to toss the pies down the stairs to avoid becoming a side dish, but the preparation did wonders for her psyche.

"Meanwhile she worked feverishly to figure out how to reverse the zombification, reading through the bounty of journals and text books the doctor had brought with him and conjuring medicines, which she mixed into the pies. But as of yet, she's seen no improvement."

After a long pause, Hans asked, "So what does this have to do with you and I being trapped here?"

"The pie you saw upon the sill the day you arrived was to be the last from that particular source. When she went to the burial site many days ago, the body she found wasn't buried—it was that of the man who'd done the burying. He lay face down, one hand clutching his chest and the other extended, having carved the letters Z-O-M-B into the soil. Several piles of dirt lay scattered around him next to empty holes.

"Her best assumption was that he'd attempted to dig up the bodies for some reason—perhaps the authorities were on to him and he needed to relocate the evidence—and when he found no bodies on the plot, he'd concluded that his victims had resurrected as zombies. That'd be enough to give anyone cardiac arrest, and more so a man who was carrying around several extra pounds. He was a difficult one to drag back to the cottage, but she eventually managed it, grateful that at least the last meal for the foreseeable future would be a big one. Then you two came along just as the crust was cooling over the criminal, and in you, she saw hope."

"You mean she saw his next meal," Hans corrected.

"Yes. But she wasn't sure, which was why she left Liesel free and kept stringing her along. You see, as long as it wasn't proven that she'd intentionally trapped you, she could pretend to find the key and let you go without consequence. At least, that was how she saw it."

"The poor woman," Hans said without a note of bitterness in his voice. "The love she felt for the man must've been tremendous for her to have gone to such extremes."

"You sound as if you almost admire her."

"Loyalty, inner strength, perseverance—what's not to admire?"

"Uh, locking you up and getting your girlfriend killed."

"That bit, yes. But the poor old girl doesn't know who to trust; she doesn't see that if we work together, instead of as adversaries, we could help her."

"You'd…you help her?"

"I would," he said with resolve. "Would you?"

"I'd like to. Very much. But I don't know how." Her last words became a forlorn whisper.

Though he could hear her weariness, he pressed further. "You still haven't told me how you fit into this picture."

"I know," she said from the unseen side of the hole. "But I'm so very tired, and I must sleep. Please put the rock back and tomorrow I'll explain."

* * *

Author's Note: Well there you have it...most of it. Did I manage to surprise anyone at all? And please do pour out your current theories on Greta.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

When Hans opened his eyes the next morning, his first instinct was to roll out the rock, but he thought better of it. If he pushed too hard, Greta might pull back entirely. The old woman obviously had a powerful hold over her, and she possibly regretted sharing as much as she already had. So the rock stayed still for the rest of the morning. When the sun was high in the sky and Hans' stomach rumbled from not having eaten anything since supper the night before, he was startled to hear the familiar clink of dishes on a tray heading toward him.

When Greta appeared, she gave him a soft smile, but her eyes stayed dull. "You must be hungry," she said simply.

Hans nodded. "She doesn't mind that I see you?"

"No."

"Last night…she must've heard."

"She did." Greta lifted a mug of coffee to him, and his fingertips brushed against her hand as he grasped the cup. She flinched in response to his touch, sending hot liquid down the ceramic sides. "Sorry."

"It's fine. So she knows about Liesel?"

"She does." When Greta angled a plate of toast through the bars, Hans purposely let his fingers linger on the back of her hand. Her skin was as silky as he'd imagined.

Next she pushed forward a dish of eggs and held her hand between the bars long enough for him to cup his full palm around it and glide his thumb slowly back and forth. She lifted her gaze, allowing Hans to see the sensual spark that flickered deep within her irises, and this time it was his hand that shook. She bit back a satisfied smile and slid her hand from under his, leaving the eggs in his wobbly grip.

"I'll let you eat in peace," she said and before he could protest added, "If you like, I could return with a basin of warm soapy water and sponges so you can bathe."

"I would like that very much. Thank you."

She nodded, shy again, and after he'd eaten, returned with bath supplies as promised. While she set them down next to the cage, Hans began unbuttoning his shirt.

"I'll return later to collect everything," she said and made a hasty retreat.

"What about my rinse?" Hans called out, finishing with his shirt and pulling it off

"Y—your rinse?" She turned and her gaze became glued to Hans' defined bare chest.

"I'll be a little sticky without it. Liesel filled a bucket with clear water and stood on a stump to dump it over me, like a shower."

"Oh, well, yes, I suppose I could do the same."

Hans unfastened his belt and worked at the top button of his trousers.

Greta forced her gaze away. "I'll go get a bucket and fill it right now, just holler when you've finished cleaning…everything."

Hans chuckled throughout his sponge bath. There were few things more adorable than a beautiful girl blushing with innocence. It was almost enough to make him forget that she still had dark secrets to divulge. He called out when he was ready to be rinsed, and Greta returned carrying two buckets of sloshing water. She pulled over a stump and climbed upon it without so much as a glance in Hans' direction.

"Don't you have look to know where to pour?" he taunted.

"I'm just going to dump it—getting underneath is your responsibility," she teased right back. "And all you get is two buckets so be quick."

"Fair enough," he laughed and jumped to get under the first rush of water. She stayed quiet and kept her gaze respectfully averted through the second bucket as well, and Hans realized how very nice it felt to be treated as more than a piece of meat.

She handed him his towel and turned her back but didn't walk away. After drying off and securing the towel around his waist, he told her, "Okay, all clear."

When she again faced him, he saw that all color had vanished from her face. Her throat tightened and she looked as if she was fighting to not get sick. He opened his mouth to ask if she was okay, but she stopped him with her palm held flat in front of her.

"Did you mean it when you said you'd help her?" she asked.

"I did."

Greta nodded and swallowed again. "I'm going to ask you to do one more thing for me. After that you'll be completely free." Hans had kept his eyes riveted on her terrified face, and so he hadn't noticed how the thing that was now in her hand had gotten there. But when she flicked her eyes downward, his gaze followed and he saw that she was holding a large, rusted key. "I'm going to unlock this door. All I ask is that you stay long enough to listen to the rest of my story. Promise me."

Hans' mouth went dry. She had the key? She had the key! He was angry and confused, but that didn't stop him from feeling compassion for the trembling girl in front of him. "I promise."

She walked to the door and stuck the key in, turning it until a click sounded. "Wait here. I'm going inside and will push the rock out when I'm ready."

After she left, Hans' breath came rapidly. It felt as if his chest couldn't decide between caving in and exploding. The cage was unlocked. He could run out right now. But he'd promised. Even still…what if while he waited the old woman came along and locked him in again? He took a step toward the door. But he didn't want to leave Greta. He had to know her story, and if he became impatient now, he might never get the opportunity to hear it.

While his thoughts wrestled, the rock thumped onto the ground. He rushed over and peered through the hole. It was broad daylight, but the room stood in a muted glow, so it took a moment for his eyes to adjust. When they did, he saw the old woman! She stood several feet back from the hole, but the front of her hood was turned directly toward it. Suddenly, all thought for himself disintegrated; his only concern was for Greta.

"What have you done with her!" He pounded both fists into the wall. The old woman merely stared. Then Hans recollected himself and realized he was no longer locked in. "I'll throttle you myself," he growled and thrust away from the hole.

"No, Hans! Please come back." It was Greta's voice, and it had come from the room. The old woman had her.

With dread, he crouched back to the hole, afraid of what he might see. But the old woman was still the only person in the room. She lifted her hand and pulled back the hood to let it fall past her cropped, tawny locks. The large, bumpy nose stuck out far beyond the rest of her delicate features until she pulled the thin elastic straps attached to it over her head to reveal the small, angular nose beneath.

"Greta," Hans murmured.

"Yes, it's me. It's been me the whole time."

"The whole— I don't understand."

"I'm the one who brought him here, and after he killed the old woman who lived here, I assumed her identity."

"So the man in the basement is your…"

"My father. And thank you for calling him a man and not a monster."

"But why do you need to dress like her?"

"I'm not keen on company, as you can imagine, and you'd be surprised how being an old, malformed woman can scare people off. And when the rare acquaintance of the prior owner stops by, I explain that she died and I'm her sister, and then after a nice meal, I send them on their way."

"Clever girl," Hans said, the words tasting bitter as he spat them out. "Clever enough to trap me here and string Liesel along to her death. We didn't get the courtesy of being sent on our way, did we?"

"At first I truly did intend to feed you and then dismiss you. But Liesel, God rest her soul, started talking about her connections with doctors, and I thought…I thought perhaps that would offer hope, so I kept you around to see what would come of it. But the more time I spent with her, the less I trusted her, especially when she became far too curious about the basement. I couldn't risk her ruining everything. And then there was the temptation of your brawniness. I was desperate, and I figured someone like you could sustain my father for a long time."

So she _had_ been looking at him as a piece of meat. "Sorry to be the skeptic," he said, not sounding the least bit sorry, "but this cage makes things look a tiny bit more premeditated then all that."

She moved to the hole and fell to her knees. "That was already here. I swear to you. I have no idea what the former owner used it for. And the moment the thought entered my head to use it as a trap, I tried to push it out. But my allegiance was first and foremost to my father, so I couldn't simply let you slip away without thinking it through. That's why I gave you the runaround with directions and came up with that list of chores, to give me more time to think. It wasn't until I'd actually slammed the door on the cage that I made my decision. Even then, I wasn't sure. As I explained earlier—so long as you weren't definitively a prisoner, I could change my mind. And that's what I've done.

"Now that you've listened and you know everything, you're free to go. Find your way home and have a good life. I hope one day you'll be able to forgive me."

He was free. More free than before he'd arrived, actually, for he was no longer bound to Liesel. Saving his father's business would be trickier now, but he'd find a way. Without losing another moment, he sprang to his feet, grabbed his clothes from the ground, and threw the door open, charging out onto the lawn. He held both arms up in the air and howled, spinning and basking in the freedom. He could do whatever he wanted. And he knew exactly what that was.

Cutting the celebration short, he held his towel up with one hand and ran—around the side of the house, across the grass, and up the front stoop. He entered the house and headed straight past the large plank of plywood nailed over the opening to the basement. On the back wall shelves, an entire section angled forward to reveal a doorway, and in a few long strides he was in the bedroom. Greta, still on her knees, jerked around to stare at him, her eyes open wide in astonishment. He crossed the room and pulled her up by her shoulders, then gripped both sides of her jaw with one large hand, forcing her face to tilt upward. Her eyes flashed with fear.

"You told me to be free" he said, his voice gruff. "But I'll never be free of this place, free of you, until I do _this_." He lowered his face to hers and loosened his grip as he brushed his lips over hers.

At first, she didn't move, didn't even breathe, but in the next moment she lifted onto tiptoes and pressed her mouth urgently to his. She tasted of vanilla and strawberries and everything delicious. What Hans had intended to end at a simple kiss quickly escalated into something neither one of them seemed able to stop.

His towel slipped to the ground, and they both busied their hands at the button of Greta's cloak until it slid over her shoulders, pooling at her feet. She helped him with the complicated matrix of buttons across her bodice, and as it loosened, he met each newly exposed piece of flesh with a tender kiss, remembering how he'd dreamed of doing exactly this on the very first night he'd seen her.

As he stripped her down, Greta took gradual steps backward toward the bed, conveniently reaching it just as Hans rid her body of the final bit of fabric. He laid her gently down and held her intense gaze with his own, confirming that she wanted this as much as he did. And then he took her. For the rest of the afternoon he had his way with her, and she with him, until they lay sweaty and spent in each other's arms, tingling from their sublime physical union. They'd only met a few days earlier and still had much to learn about one another, but it was if their bodies had been acquainted since the beginning of time.

It took them a while to recapture their breath and their senses, and when they did, Greta lay with her head on one side of his chest, running her hand along the muscles of his opposite shoulder. "I'd expected you to soften up in that small space. Guess I was wrong."

He smiled and ran his fingertips over her straight, nimble fingers. "When you were dressed like the old woman, you had distinctly elderly hands. How did you do that?"

"Like this." She lifted her hand and held it bent at the knuckles. "There was no need to do more—the human mind fills in the blanks with what it expects to see, so your brain probably painted on wrinkles and age spots." She lowered her hand and tilted her head to press her lips to his warm chest. "And you were nothing but wonderful to me, even then. I think I knew all along I'd never be able to go through with my wicked plan. In fact, it's quite possible that I was keeping you here because I subconsciously didn't want to say goodbye."

Hans rubbed the back of his knuckles lightly over her cheek. "I could've left. Perhaps I should have, but your pull, it was too strong. I didn't want to say goodbye either."

They kissed and snuggled and talked some more. Hans told her of his father's struggling wood carving business and confessed to his shallow intentions concerning Liesel. Greta revealed more about her life pre-zombie infestation, and Hans learned that her father had come into a large sum of money when his investment in a diamond mine paid off. Yet Greta hadn't balked at giving up her good life to help him.

"I have father's money," she explained. "When it became clear we'd be staying here indefinitely, I traveled back home and slipped into the house in the dark of night to retrieve the metal box where he kept it. I'll give you what you need to save your father's business."

"Greta, no. It's all you have in the world, I couldn't."

"It isn't a gift; I'll want something in return."

"What's that?"

"When you leave here, don't forget about me."

"Greta, foolish girl. How could I ever forget you?"

"And don't forget my father either."

Hans' face clouded. "That would be rather difficult, as well."

"What I mean is, talk to the doctors in town, see if they can help him. I realize it's too dangerous to ask anyone to examine him, but maybe you can press them for ideas that I can try on my own."

Hans didn't want to discourage her by explaining that it was probably already too late for her father. If he'd become fully zombie, his mortal body was dead and couldn't be revived. When Hans had said earlier that he wanted to help the old woman, he'd meant by putting the creature out of its misery. Of course, nobody knew exactly how the zombiefication process worked, and there were as many different strains as theories, so it was entirely possible that Greta's father had become some entirely new species of zombie with a remote chance of being reversed. He figured he could make one trip into town and learn what he could before forcing reality on her.

"I'll do it," he said. "But I don't like the idea of leaving you here alone. Surely he can break through that plywood and nail contraption you have out there."

"He can, but he won't. He'll either be rational enough to not want to harm me or unintelligent enough to not be able to figure it out. Besides, I've been doing fine on my own for all this time."

"Yes, you have." He smiled admiringly upon her and lowered his mouth for another kiss, but they were interrupted by a pounding in the main part of the house. They held still, listening, and another thud sounded.

"Sounds like someone's at the front door," Hans said, getting up and pulling on his pants before going to the bedroom doorway. Another thud along with a loud crack sounded. "Greta, it's not the front door—it's the basement."

"What?" She flew up from the bed, wrapping the sheet around herself, and stepped just behind Hans, peeking around him just in time to see a large chunk fly out of the plywood at the top of the basement steps. Through the new opening poked a sickly green head loaded with gnarly blond hair that stuck out in all directions. Sections of skin hung loose on the face, seeming about to peel off, but the creature's plump lips remained intact, as did its ample bosom.

"Liesel?" Hans murmured.

The she-zombie's face flicked toward him, and her lips spread into a wide grin. She kicked through the wood at her feet and stepped into the big room, turning to gesture down the steps. A second creature appeared behind her, this one a grayish color and more severely decayed, with bones jutting out on many places and remnants of clothing hanging in tatters.

With his arms protectively extending back around Greta, Hans backed her into the bedroom and pulled the thick door shut. "Help me move this." He went to the armoire and together they dragged it in front of the door.

Greta had dutifully helped, but once the heavy piece of furniture was in place, she said, "Now we're stuck. There isn't another way out of here."

"I know, but if they try to get in maybe this will prove a big enough deterrent that they'll give up."

"And then what?"

"I don't know." His eyes flicked, unseeing, around the room. "How in the hell is Liesel still alive?"

Greta shook her head. "No way—if you'd seen what he did to her—there's no way she's alive, just reanimated."

"Why didn't he eat her?"

Greta shrugged. "I guess she came along too soon in his feeding cycle. He must not've been hungry enough to finish the job."

"But you said it took your father months to make the transition—she's only been down there a day; why has she progressed so swiftly?  
"My father had the ointment to slow things down. And he'd not been killed first, so maybe it takes longer to convert living flesh to undead."

Hans stood close to the wardrobe and kept an ear near the back so he could hear what was going on in the next room. Graceless footsteps creaked the floor boards just outside the bedroom door.

"There's something else," Greta whispered. "In one of the doctor's books there was a theory that the goodness of a person's heart could slow the process. Likewise, the opposite is true."

"In that case, Liesel never stood a chance," Hans muttered.

The wardrobe inched forward in response to something slamming into the door behind it. A second slam was followed by a groan and then a running screech that ended in a boom strong enough to unbalance the wardrobe. Hans swore and jumped in front of it, thrusting his arms forward to shove the heavy piece of furniture back against the door.

Greta dashed across the room and grabbed the rocking chair. She lifted it into the air and slammed it on the ground, cracking some of its spindles. "If I can crack the rockers off the bottom, we can use them to defend ourselves."

"Great idea. Bring it here." She did so, and Hans turned to press his back against the armoire, bracing it against continued assaults by the zombies, while he stomped on the chair until the thick, pointed curves of wood at the bottom came loose. Greta grabbed them, keeping one for herself and giving the other to Hans.

"Let's catch them off guard," Hans said. "We'll move to either side of the armoire, and next time they pound, I'll give it a shove forward to help them on their quest. Their momentum should keep them propelling forward into the room and we can attack before they recover from the surprise. Swing as hard as you can and go for the head."

Greta stared at him wide-eyed.

"You can't think of them as people," Hans instructed, "because they aren't human any more, and if we don't kill them, they're going to kill us. Move into position." They stood on either side of the bulky wardrobe, hidden to each other, while they waited for the zombies to make the next move.

A crash sounded and the armoire toppled with the zombies landing on top of it, just as Hans had predicted. He'd anticipated that Greta might hesitate to attack, though he hoped she'd at least defend herself until he could get to her. What he hadn't foreseen was that Liesel would flip over and grasp onto his weapon just before it crunched into her skull. With a heave and a grunt, she flung the piece of wood, along with Hans who maintained his grip, over her head and into the wall. He slid down to the floor, fighting to maintain consciousness.

"Hans!" Greta shrieked and ran to him.

While the gray zombie rose slowly, Liesel leaped up and in a matter of seconds stood in front of the lovers. Her charcoal eyes glinted as she stared down at her bare-chested former fiancé holding onto this girl who was wrapped only in a bedsheet. The zombified Liesel gnashed her teeth and growled.

Greta lifted onto her knees and shoved the pointed end of her weapon into Liesel's soft gut. A thick, green slime spurted from the wound and Liesel yelped, staggering backward. The other zombie had finally risen and stood behind her. Too much of his facial structure had worn away to make out any kind of expression on him. When Liesel bumped into him, her shoulders began to shake, and a hideous, wet rasp bubbled up her throat. Her wide grin told Hans it was a laugh. She swiftly unsheathed the ooze-covered stake from her abdomen and lunged forward, pounding Hans in the side of the head and knocking him away from the girl. She next grabbed Greta by the neck and tossed her into the back wall.

Greta slumped onto the floor. With a grunt and a wave of her arm, Liesel ordered the other zombie in that direction. Hans shook his head into focus and struggled to get to his feet, but before he'd managed to stand, Liesel shoved him to the floor, pressing her rancid foot into his bare chest. She flexed her toes and dug her excruciatingly long and sharp toenails into the flesh over his rib cage. He howled until he had no air to howl with. Liesel increased the pressure of her foot on his diaphragm until a whimper came from across the room.

"Daddy?"

Hans sucked in a huge breath when Liesel lifted her foot from his chest. She'd turned toward Greta, who sat on the floor, clutching the sheet to her chest and fixing her big, watery eyes on the gray monster in front of her. The creature's head tilted slightly sideways, examining the girl. Liesel grunted an order, but the other zombie didn't obey this time. He merely stood transfixed.

Liesel snorted and moved toward the pair, pushing the gray zombie aside and swinging the rocker club at Greta. But a decayed arm squeezed her bicep and held the weapon back. Liesel spun around toward the other zombie and growled. He bared what was left of his teeth and growled back. Liesel hissed and slammed the heel of her free hand into his jaw, twisting his head. A sharp snap was heard, and then the former man's head stood still for a moment before falling limp, dangling by the string of his spinal cord. Liesel's lips twisted into a smirk as she touched her fingertips to his chest and sent him toppling to the ground. A rumble of wet rasps gurgled from her throat just before she jumped on his skull, crushing it completely.

"No!" Greta hurtled toward her, knocking the green zombie off the creature's head, but not to the ground. Liesel swiped at the girl just as Hans rose and swung his plank of wood, connecting with Liesel's forehead. But she was more pliable than the other zombie, and didn't snap. Instead she unleashed a spittled snarl, and rushed him, grabbing his neck and slamming him against the wall.

"Run, Greta!" he choked out. "Run, and don't come back!"

He heard his new girlfriend scurry from the room right before he kneed his ex-fiancé in her undead groin. Liesel bent double, but maintained her grip on his throat with one hand while she pulled the other back and pounded him in the face. Blood ran from his nose to his chin in warm streams, and Liesel licked her lips as she watched its progress. Extending the tip of her tongue, she reached it toward him, and Hans was hit by a stench that was a thousand times worse than the flavors that had soured her mouth while she was alive. He tried to push her, but she swatted his hands away before they could find purchase. Her torso and thighs pressed him to the wall, making his legs a useless defense.

He couldn't freaking believe it—he was going to spend the rest of his life with Liesel after all. The only bright side was that the rest of his life was going to be very, very short. The ground under his feet trembled and the wall behind his back shook; hot bursts exploded all around his head. Everything went dark, and he tried inhaling but couldn't. He was sinking, slowly sinking and trying to breathe, but he couldn't.

Small fingers thrust into his mouth and swiped, again and again until cool air made its way in. The fingers wiped at his eyes and pried them open so that he was looking between thin, goopy strings at the sweetest face he'd ever seen.

"Greta," he murmured weakly.

"I'm sorry it took me so long to remember the gun," she said, kneeling down next to him and cradling his slimy face to her chest. "Daddy used it to fight the zombies, and he brought it with so I could kill him if that became necessary. But I knew I could never do it, so I hid it under the sofa and put it out of my mind until now."

"So Liesel's gone? For good this time?"

"Yes."

"And your father too?"

"Yes." The sadness in her tone was nearly devastating.

"I'm sorry."

"I know." She held him close and cried for a while before saying, "I see now that it had to be done. He was further gone than I'd ever let myself admit. Though he did recognize me, didn't he?"

"Yes, he did."

"So we had a nice last moment. And in a way, I'm grateful to Liesel for doing for him what I never could've myself."

"Is this her blood, er, slime that's all over me then?"

Greta laughed. "Yep—guess I wasn't _that_ grateful."

"Well, I'm grateful that she ran off into the forest and got us lost so that I could meet you."

Greta reached down and picked up a dripping skull fragment and held it in the air. "To Liesel."

Hans picked up an oozing ear and tapped it to the bone. "To Liesel."

THE END

* * *

**Author's Note:** I know, rather a strange tale, eh? But I hope you had fun along the way. Special thanks to Katerina and Metro for being such faithful readers and reviewers. You remind me of why I've missed fanfictionland so very much. ;)


End file.
